Day 366, My House

It's been a year now since my first post on this blog, and this is my hundredth post. Unbe-frikkin-lievable. Hell, I'm still shocked there was a post two. This calls for a celebration. It's time to dance.



See, I think this is what people think of when they think of superheroes. They can make us look like anything, but it's not true. I think the idea of heroism has become a caricature, with monumental challenges, incredible abilities and above all, simple solutions. It's the meteor hurtling towards the earth with only one person who can stop it.

I haven't seen any of that in the past year. If that's what a hero's supposed to be, I'm never going to live up to it. I'm just a guy that can fly.

Dude Totally Stole My Style

As I see the posters going up around town for this brand-spanking new Hollywood film with a major movie star (which is totally going to suck), I can't help but wonder where my royalty check is. Okay, so maybe I'm not as well known as some of the other super heroes, your Batmans and Hulks and everything, but I know about likeness rights from a little movie called Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, and I have the phone numbers of at least two lawyers. At least, I had them in my old phone. Maybe I can find some of that stuff they sent me when they lost my house in court.

Damsel In Distress

A strange thing happened to me this afternoon. I was waking down the street, and some car was stuck at the intersection, uselessly revving away. I could smell the engine trouble half way down the block. I went closer to find a cute brunette behind the wheel, confused as hell, so naturally, I intervened. "Put it in neutral, and I'll push," I said, yet every time I got behind the bumper, she started revving the engine again. "It's not my car," she said in a vaguely Brittish accent. She was clearly from out of town.

Three cycles of the stop light later, I was as befuddled as she, so I flagged down another pedestrian, some big muscle-bound guy. "Help me push the car," I said, and he took control of the situation. He told the girl what neutral was, and we got her to the side of the road. "What do you do," he asked her through the car window. "I'm a philosopher," the brunette replied. Suddenly, I was the fifth wheel of the situation.

"Are you gonna be okay?" I ventured through the passenger side window. She nodded. The burly guy kept chatting her up. I walked away, confounded by my failure. Finally, a chance to be a hero, and I handed it away. To the victor go the spoils. Super lame.

I Lost My Phone

I think if fell out of my pocket when I was flying. It's under warranty, so they're supposed to send me a new one, but I had a hell of a time trying to call them without a phone. I don't know any of my neighbors, and I didn't want to use any of their phones. There's no freaking pay phones any more. Finally, I found a public phone in the lobby of a big hotel downtown. I spent twenty minutes dealing with recordings and menus and waiting on hold. Finally I got through, and they said they're out of stock, but they still want me to fill out all these forms and stuff. They want a police report, like it was stolen, but I don't know what I'm gonna tell the cops. "Uh, I dropped it off a cliff somewhere." Even then, they're not going to send me a new phone until the next model comes out. This is bullshit. What am I going to do without a phone? How am I supposed to take pictures of my flowers? Why is this so difficult? Maybe I should just forget it.

Rough Winds Do Shake the Darling Buds of May

And summer's lease has all too short a date.


New blossoms are opening in my "garden" every day now. It's so gratifying, but look how the old ones are already starting to wither. I guess that's how it goes.

These plants give me hope. The fact that they were so dead when I started taking care of them, and now they're starting to thrive again means there might be hope for me too. Things can change. Even the fact that I care about these things means that change is possible.

I never once gave a girl flowers. They seemed so stupid and pointless. Now I've seen them blossom, come out of nothing, and I'm actually sad when they're gone. They're so fragile and fleeting. I'll never understand women, but maybe this is some small part of what they feel. I'm glad they got the chance to exist at all.

I'm Responsible For This

I just spent part of the afternoon pruning. PRUNING. I've never been responsible for another life, ever. I never even had a Tamagotchi when they were popular. A friend made me take care of his for the weekend, and it died because I never fed it. Now I'm watering plants, getting rid of the dead leaves or whatever. It may not seem like much to you, but look at them. They're alive. They have flower things. I don't remember if those were there before honestly, but the leaf things are definitely greener. I could have boosted the green in this picture, but I didn't. I can only assume the red parts of the leaves will grow out, now that the roots have nutrition from the water, and they're not choked by the rotting dead leaves that were there before. I hope they don't die.

All About the Benjamins

I remember reading the Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin a long time ago for school. I had friends at the time who were so envious of that guy, how much he accomplished in his life. When he was young, he wrote a list of everything he did, all the habits about himself that he didn't like. I don't remember what they were, swearing and stuff. Then he carried little notebooks with him for the rest of his life where he would put little dots next to the things he did, so he could monitor and improve his habits. I guess it worked for him. Actually, wait, I'll google it.

Ah, it was a list of virtues he hoped to achieve, and he'd put dots when he strayed from them. I guess it made him feel guilty about the things he did wrong and made him want to do better. I've never been one for guilt, so it might not work on me. I've never been one to envy the accomplishments of others either, so "the bold and arduous project of arriving at moral perfection" might not be the thing for me at all. I've always been more into Batman than Superman, but at least he did good overall.

I Want More

It's no good. It took me days to burn through that first stogie. I applauded myself for my self-control, kept putting it out when I felt I'd had enough. Then I bought another one. What am I? I woke up this morning and started drinking. Am I back to my old habits? They're so good. I enjoy them. Is it wrong to be happy?

I wasn't going to smoke this other cigar, or smoke it slow like the last one. All morning I've been lighting it up, smoking a little, then putting it out. I don't feel like I have enough. The last of the whiskey is sitting a few feet from me. I proved I could stop, but I don't want to. I don't have a reason to make it work. Why can't some villain show up and threaten the world? The power I have, the time on my hands, if only they had some purpose. In the comics, in the movies, it's always so clear. Where's the giant death ray? Where's the Skrull invasion? Why does real life have to be so hard?

Happy Cinco de Mayo

Take it, V...

Okay, my turn:

Remember, remember the fifth of... Mayo
The shots of tequila with beer
I know of no reason why the cinco of Mayo
Should ever be in arrears

You've been warned.

Green Thumb

There's three plants outside my window, two real, one plastic. I've been ignoring them since I moved here. I figured they belonged to whoever lived here before and they'd basically left them there to die (except the plastic one). Needless to say, they're not doing too well, but today, for the first time, I watered them.

I don't know if they're gonna make it, but I was reminded of a scene from some movie I saw years ago. There's a service for single guys, teaching them to be more responsible or something, and they issue them a fern. If they can take care of the fern, they get a puppy. If they take care of that, they get something else. So in the movie, they have some guy showing up all frantic with a dead fern shouting, "It's not my fault. You gave me a defective plant," or something. I hope I can do better than him.

Now the Time Is Here For Iron Man to Spread Fear

Went to see Iron Man today. I was really looking forward to it, but I thought it would be more like my life, and it wasn't. In the movie, Tony Starck is a millionaire playboy who's captured by terrorists and finds new purpose in his life. He works night and day to right wrongs and stuff. I liked the millionaire part, living in the cool mansion with lots of futuristic stuff, but then it lost me.

One of the great things about Iron Man is how flawed the guy is. He has a cool suit, but underneath, he's just human. He has problems like everyone else. I'm in the ASPCRDJ, the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Robert Downey Junior, so I can't fault that guy, but I would have liked to see a little more of this:

The best part was when I was sitting in the theater thinking, "I'm the only real superhero who came to see this," but what if I wasn't? Maybe there's more of us. Maybe they don't blog. What if this kind of thing happens all the time, and nobody knows about it? Maybe none of them do heroic stuff either.

Sometimes a Cigar Is Just a Cigar

The dedication I used to have to drinking and smoking seem to have gone away. I still enjoy them, but I don't need them all the time. In fact, most of the bottle and some of the cigar are still sitting next to me. I thought the time apart would make me binge, but I just didn't feel the need.

I do feel different, though, now that they're back. I'm more relaxed, more comfortable in my own skin. The past two nights' sleep have been the most restful I can remember. Sure, these things have the potential to destroy me, but does that have to mean they're all bad? I've never seen the point in moderation, so maybe I'll just do whatever I want and see what happens. Maybe I can trust myself more to want less... Does that make sense?

In the words of Groucho Marx: "I love my cigar, but I take it out of my mouth once in a while."

You've Earned It, Kid

There they are, my reward for a job well done. I feel like I've earned them, that I owe them to myself, but do I really want to start again? If I just do these things, will I be able to stop? I remember the day I poured the last of my vodka down the sink. It's hard to be without these things, but I'm really trying this time.

"If you would not feel the horrible burden of time weigh you down and crush you to the earth, be drunken continuously. Drunken with what? With wine, with poetry or with virtue as you please, but be drunken."
-Baudelaire

Good enough for me.

One More Day

When I quit vices for the month of April, I didn't think I was gonna make it. Once a failure, always a failure, I figured. Somehow, I stuck with it. I've been through the withdrawal and come out the other side. I'm thinking clearer than I can remember, and I actually feel okay without smoking and liquor. My power is stronger, too. I don't worry so much about falling. I don't think about it, just let myself fly and enjoy it.

Now it's the end of April. I've been counting down the days. I had it all planned out, a cigar and a pint of Maker's Mark. Beautiful. Now I'm having second thoughts. How sick is that? What about the days when I fantasized about the May Day bender? I imagined waking up sometime around the fifth in an ER half way across the country with no idea how I got there.

I'm in a position to make another fucking decision. I hate this stuff. I guess there's always moderation, but what's the point of that?

Will It Be Like the The Office TV Show?

I'm getting a job. The more I think about it, the more I figure there must have been something to what my parents were trying to teach me with that work crap. So, to that end, I made an appointment this afternoon and had an interview at a temp agency. I had to fill out these forms, but the strange thing was that I actually remembered the last name of one my old bosses, Wylie. I don't know how it came back like that. I hadn't thought about her in so long, I figured the name was gone forever. Hell, maybe it's not even right, but it's strange what a little sobriety can do for the mind. A little later, I got to arbitrarily make up my typing speed. Look how fast I'm typing this. It must be a thousand wpm.

Then I got to the strangest question, "Briefly describe yourself and the qualities of your ideal job." I didn't know what to say. I had the resume I wrote years ago, completely filled with bullshit. I could have copied the "career goals" and "about me" from there, but that didn't seem right. I thought about this blog, the biggest contribution to society I've made in the past year. I considered writing about my super power, explaining what it feels like to fly, but I wouldn't want to jeopardize my secret identity.

I don't know what I'm looking for, why I went in there. I've never thought much about where I wanted to work, just what I could get and what I could get away with.

I know what I don't want to do, but I couldn't imagine an ideal job. A year ago, I might have said superhero. Maybe it's an ideal job for someone, but not me. The woman there said they mostly fill office jobs, so my improbably fast typing speed is probably gonna get me typing jobs. I can request things if I want, but that's a big if. Why did I do this?

Here, Hold This

I was out tonight, wandering around town, and I started talking to this homeless guy named Rodney. He was really friendly and kind of drunk. He kept talking about how God wasn't going to pay rent, how you had to earn it. He talked about how you have to love yourself. He talked about how he loved everyone, no matter what color they were. He went on and on about what he'd learned and what was really important in life, but that's not the point of the story.

The point is, he asked me to hold his cigarette while he got something out of his coat, and I didn't smoke any of it. It was right there in my hand, already lit, so familiar. Who knows, if it hadn't had homeless guy spit on it, what I might have done. Less than a week now before I can start again. I wonder if I will. It was so hard to get this far. What was the point of it if I just start again?

Moving In For Real

I've been moving furniture all day, setting down a little bit of roots. Who knows how long I'm gonna stay here, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna live like a squatter while I make up my mind.

I'm starting to see things differently, starting to see solutions to problems I used to have in my life. They're still vague, and I wouldn't know what to do with solutions to old problems if I had them, but I could use some perspective. I wish I could be less vague. I hope I don't forget this feeling. Maybe there are solutions to life's problems after all...

Smoke Free Week 3

They say the physical addiction goes away after a couple weeks. I guess that's true. All the ups and downs I kept feeling during the times of day I used to smoke have leveled off. Now I just crave them equally all the time. Whenever I see someone smoking, I either want to be them or I want to punch them and run away. It's a strange feeling.

Now my strongest high and low are when I eat too much chocolate and crash a few hours later. I've quit so much lately, it's been hard to tell what any of my withdrawal symptoms are from. I'm even losing the callous on my lighter thumb.

I have all this extra energy and nowhere to put it. I should be pulling people off train trestles or some shit, but I'll think of something to keep myself busy.

Oh, and it looks like I don't have to pay taxes on inheriting the house now that it's been disinherited. Hooray me. I'd rather have the house.

Words on Paper

Without any form of intoxication, I've completely run out of things to occupy myself, so much so that I actually started reading a book. I think it's the only book I own at this point. I brought it with me from the mansion because it's the only thing I can remember ever getting from my grandfather, my dad's dad. It's his copy of Don Quixote.

I never figured I needed to read the book because I saw part of the TV version with the Third Rock from the Sun guy. Turns out it's not bad. What really surprises me are these little moments in the book where Don Quixote stops being crazy, and he's like "I know there's no knights in real life, but there should be, and I'm gonna be the one to get it going. Once I do, everyone's gonna copy me, and we'll have an army of people defending the weak." I must admit I'm curious if he pulls it off. I'll probably read some more if I can't think of anything else to do.

This Gum Sucks

And whoever suggested holding a toothpick in your mouth as a substitute for cigarettes was smoking something totally different. I'm going crazy. I can't stop thinking about what I'm not doing. I found a pen cap I can breathe through. If I really concentrate, I can imagine it's pumping that sweet, sweet smoke into my lungs. I'm sure I look absurd with it hanging off my lips all day.

Long Lost Memories

I'm so bored. I had no idea how much time alcohol was taking out of my day, but if it hadn't been for all this consciousness, I might never have rediscovered something from my childhood. I used to watch this show when I was a kid, loved it, haven't thought about it in years. Now I find it on youtube. It's like a sitcom version of Ferris Bueller that was better than the sitcom of Ferris Bueller. It was called Parker Lewis Can't Lose, and this is the very first episode. Recognize the woman he falls for? It's a few minutes in.



Yup, it's Milla Jovovich, seven years before she was Leeloo Dallas. Crazy world. Great show. Good times.

I remember wishing I had that excuse rolodex, and that synchronize watches thing, they did that all the time. I was so young and wanted to get away with stuff just like he did. Wait, that's right. Those weren't good times at all. They sucked. That must be why I watched so much TV.

Unfortunately, according to my research, nobody gets Milla Jovovich in this episode. They decide not to let a woman come between them or some bullshit...

I Quit

No more smoking, as of today. I was gonna say no more drinking, but I did some research, and the internet said if you quit drinking too fast, you get delirium tremens, so I'll keep some beer around, but everything else is out.

I shall quit these things for the month of April. If I start again after that, I've still proven something to myself. Even if the change is temporary, it's possible. Fake it 'till you make it.

I've been thinking hard. If I could change and be anyone, I have no idea who I'd want to be. This could be the first step in a new direction or one more failed experiment.

Walk Upon the Edge of No Escape and Laugh

My stuff is still in boxes. I've been too depressed to move in all the way. Once again, I've wiped the past clean and I'm standing at the crossroads.

One way, I live my life the way it's been, trying to get out of everything that comes along and taking anything I can get away with. The other way, I start saying yes to things and see what happens. I tried this once before, and it worked out pretty well for a while. All this great stuff came my way because of other things I'd let in. Then it kind of trailed off.

Let me give you an example. I had this job (this was all back when I worked. It was my parent's idea). Instead of hiding out in the back all the time, doing whatever it was we did back there, I agreed to do some of the slightly-more-responsibility stuff. After a little while, they promoted me, and I made more money with slightly less effort. Don't let anyone tell you it's not work to avoid doing work, because it takes just as much dedication. The point is, all that slightly-more-responsibility stuff was actually kind of a challenge, and I was getting a little respect and some authority for the first time, so I quit. My inner nature won out, and I never learned whatever my parents were trying to teach me.

That's the real question here, whether I could change even if I wanted to. Maybe I was just born this way, and I'll never really care, but sometimes I feel like I want to. I have fantasies of being an actual super hero, taking the challenge. Then I remember who I am.

Liiiiight Well

There's some thin rays of hope coming down into my little apartment. My new bedroom is on the building's light well. I can climb out my window and stand there. I imagine flying up to the little patch of sky I can see above me, but there's all these windows on the way. If someone sees me, I might blow my secret identity.

Yeah, I'm DISGUISED as the piece of shit who stands in the light well, smoking cigarettes in his bathrobe. It's all a cover. My real identity is something other than the complete failure I am 24/7. In my real life, I'm a superhero. Who would suspect that? I sure don't.

I gotta get out of here. I could move, but it'd just be the same thing somewhere else. Wherever I go, I'll still be there, and I don't want to explain it to the guy who gave me this place why I'm leaving after a week.

Coffee of a Coffee of a Coffee

Haven't been able to sleep since I got here. I hate this place. I'm sleepy, but I still toss all night, and since I have nothing to do when I get up, I don't have any reason to be awake ever. I wish I could sleep all the time.

I got up about an hour ago and started drinking cup after cup of coffee. Reverse psychology. I reached for the phone, but there was nobody calling.

Ten seconds later, the phone rang.

Was I hallucinating? Is there a problem with the signal? It was my lawyer again, chasing my ambulance. The depressing idea that comes to mind is that it's some new superpower, seeing the future. That's the last thing I need. I already have a power, and it doesn't help anything. I think it's only made my life worse, from expecting myself to act like a hero. Besides, I'd probably have to drink so much coffee to see the future, I'd be all jittery all the time. Not worth it.

And I can't blame all my problems on heightened expectations, because by my estimation, I'm a lousy human being first and a lousy hero second. Hey, I've got a prediction for the future: I suck.

Goodbye, My Home

There it is, up on the hill. I don't know what the hell I'm gonna do anymore, but I know it's gonna fail.

I wish I could have been Bruce Wayne, living in Wayne manor, running the family business. If I could do it all again, I'd do it right. I could walk into the place for the first time, know what it was for, not take it all for granted. The lawyers have it now. They'll do whatever the hell they want with it.

So I'm moving into some shit hole. What could compare to having my own mansion? I was gonna look for a place to live, but it seemed like too much trouble, and some old friend of my parents has a place for rent. I'll live there for a while, then I'll do something else. It doesn't matter.

My whole life, I've been moving from one place to another. Wherever I went, whatever went wrong, I could count on my parents to bail me out. I was another one of their charitable institutions. Now I'm someone else's hard luck case, someone who doesn't give a shit if I live or die. He just let me rent from him as a favor to my parents. We'll see how long that holds out. Would anyone care if I did die? Maybe I could leave something to charity. They're not getting my money as long as I need it, but when I'm gone, it might as well go to someone besides the lawyers. Would that be enough of a good deed to get the house back?

Verdict

I have a month to vacate the premises.

I need a drink.

I Plead the Fifth

I finished my questioning, or whatever you call it, a little while ago. I was surprised when I got up there how calm I was. My lawyer and I went through all the stuff we worked out beforehand, all the questions carefully phrased so I could tell the truth and it would still sound good.

Then the other guy came up and ripped that shit apart. I held on for a little bit, but I didn't have anything good to say. Did my lawyer really think this was going to work? Her whole case was supposed to prove that even though I hadn't done anything to help anyone, I still cared. Well, it's pretty obvious to anyone with eyes that I don't.

I tried to care for a little while in the middle of his questioning. What the hell, right? I started talking about how I'm gonna miss my house, something that actually matters to me. I thought about all the TV shows and movies I've seen where the guy gets on the stand and makes this great speech, and suddenly everyone agrees with him. Even with all that going through my head, I couldn't make it sound like I give a shit, because I don't. I know I'm gonna lose.

That's it. My contribution to the cause of me having somewhere to live is completed. Take the house. I don't care anymore.

...And On And On...

We're breaking for the day. They don't put me on the stand until tomorrow. I can't believe how long this process is taking. Lawyer lady says she'll make it all right. I just have to sit up there and say my piece. Unlike her, I lack psychotic optimism, and I'm not about to put my faith in her amateur theatrics.

I haven't had to speak in court yet. That's what lawyers are for. Now my case rests on me. I think we all know how this is going to turn out. My voice is gonna crack, I'll break into a cold sweat. I get the worst stage fright. There, I said it. I don't want to do this.

My Second Day in Court

More talking. More people coming through.

One of my parent's friends came in today to give a statement. When we were done, he came over and offered me a place to live. I think he's more realistic about my chances than my lawyer is, especially after what he said in his statement.

I guess he owns a building with a vacancy. It's like the rich people version of crashing on your couch. I don't need his charity.

My Day in Court

Court is worse than I imagined. It's not all big and pretentious like I always see on TV, with the pews and the really tall desk for the judge. I don't even remember her banging her gavel. There's tables and chairs, and the judge sits a little higher than us behind a thing. It's just this room. I think the place should be pretentious and take itself too seriously. This is where they make decisions that are going to change people's lives.

The one cool thing is the stenographer. I spent most of the time checking her out. She was supposed to be transcribing, but it looked like she kept typing even when nobody was talking, so what's up with that? During one of the breaks, I watched her change the ticker-tape that comes out of the machine. It looked like it was in code or braile or something.

I'm even more disappointed with my lawyer now than last week. I thought I was watching a lame community theater version of To Kill a Mockingbird. She reminds me of some girl who took three drama courses in college and thinks she's gonna make it big in showbiz. The guy on the other side isn't much better. He doesn't say much, but as soon as he starts talking, he puts on a big grin. It disappears when he gets distracted or stops talking. I'm not even sure who he's representing.

Most of his arguments are about what a terrible person I am. After an afternoon of hearing that, I'm not just convinced I shouldn't have the house, I think someone should come and take my super powers. My job for now is to say nothing and try not to piss anyone off, but we're not done yet. I have to be there at 9 AM tomorrow. Goddamned legal system.

Final Preparations

I feel like a man who's going to the gallows and nobody wants to tell him. The hearing is spectacle, part of the punishment. Can't they just be honest about what's going on? This is inhumane.

I had a final meeting with my lawyer today before we appear in court on Monday, going over what I need to do and what's going to happen. I think I'm getting to her. All that bullshit optimism seems to be wearing thin. I tried to talk to her honestly about what's going on, but I don't think she speaks that language. I don't know anybody else who would understand what's going on. Maybe The lawyer for the other side.

Right before I left she told me to relax. Now I have the entire weekend to think about what's gonna go wrong.

"What Size Coffin Are You?"

The planning for my case goes on around me. The lawyer has me posing for pictures. I tried to tell her it's not what you do after you get caught that matters. She doesn't listen. My opinion on legal matters is worth nothing, apparently. I'll pose for the pictures, but I won't smile.

I can't decide whether I want to be inside the house or outside. It's raining pretty hard today, and that suits my mood fine. I actually feel trapped in here, which is strange because I'm fighting to keep living here. I should spend as much time in here as I can, right? While I still have it.

Every day that goes by makes me more anxious, and nothing makes me anxious like anxiety. It's a good thing the case is soon because I can't take this anymore.

No Case

There's a summons in my lap. Two weeks from today. It doesn't take long when rich people want their day in court.

I've never been in a courtroom before, not when they're in session. I don't know what's going to happen. I have some new lawyer calling me now. We got into an argument when I explained that I don't care about philanthropy, but she still calls to "keep me informed," so I listen, but it doesn't really matter. I'm gonna lose the house. I know it, and she knows it. All her legal talk doesn't distract me. I know bullshit when I hear it. She's got nothing. Worse than that, she's got me, and I'm the worst thing that could happen to my case. She acts like she cares, but I know what her job is. She gets payed, win or lose.

I'm scared of going on the stand. In a way, I'm more scared of that than I am of losing the house. I told her I don't want to do it, but she swears she can make it work. Again, bullshit. It's my house, my case, I should get to decide.

I Have No Patience

I suck at waiting. How long did my goodwill last? Less than a day.

I'm not a charitable person. That was my parent's thing. I'm a taker. I don't give. My career as a superhero should be enough to prove that. I'm not even that good at taking, or they wouldn't be taking the house back. The bottom line is that I fail at everything.

I haven't been sleeping right. Every time I'm about to fall asleep, I feel like I'm falling, and I jerk back awake to make sure I'm not. It's like when I was first learning to fly, when I'd wake up in the air, and I'd fall and hurt myself and wish I could keep it from happening.

I haven't been able to fly lately either. I can do it for a second, but when I get in the air, I have to fall to go up, and I panic and I really fall. The problem is really that I don't want to fall. I care what happens. When I lie down to sleep I feel the same way. I can't make myself let go, it happens or it doesn't.

I just want my house. I want to stay here and have everyone else go away.

Restless

I can't sleep. Maybe I can fix this. I can find out what my parent's charities were and move them back in the house. They should have told me this might happen. Somebody should have.

Shit. Those letters.

I just remembered. When I first moved in here, there was big a stack of mail, so I ignored it. It got bigger, but there started to be things for me sometimes, so I would see it, and one day, I was really bored and went through it. There was all this stuff from the center for this, association of that and the something foundation. I thought they wanted more money, and they were so clearly marked, I just threw them out, and I threw out all the new ones when they came in, too. I fucked up.

It gives me a plan though. I'll wait for more letters, and I'll go to the places they're from, and I'll ask them, politely, if they want to use my house again. Simple.

You Call This FINE PRINT?

I have more information now. Apparently, the house was given to me in my parents will so I can "continue the philanthropic enterprises it houses." FUCK. This is news to me. Did they tell me that? I don't remember. I had no idea ownership of the house was conditional. I don't even know what their philanthropic enterprises were.

I like it here. I don't want to move out. Jesus, my hands are shaking. What the hell?

It's not like this is my childhood home or anything, like I came here for christmas every year, but I never lived in a mansion before, and I had no idea what I was missing. You can't use rooms in an apartment like you use rooms in a mansion. You have one for thinking, one for reading, one for the cool blue window thing from the light in the summer. I never cared about that stuff before. When I first moved in, it was just there. Now I might be losing it. What the fuck?

They're Taking My Home

Something's wrong. That's all I know. The legal minutia are lost on me, but there's some other lawyer who's trying to take my house away. He can't do that. I freaking live here. This is bullshit.

I don't even know if it's real or not. My parent's lawyer says he'll handle it. He told me not to do anything. Is he crazy? He doesn't know I have super powers. There has to be something I can do. He doesn't know anything.

This Can't Be Good

Probate lawyer called again. No way he'd call on a Saturday if it was good news. I'm not optimistic, and now I gotta go down to his office to "talk." If I don't go, he'll keep calling me, trying to make me feel guilty. I'll go. Shit.

I gotta take the car. I can't land in the parking lot, even on a Saturday, without having to answer more questions than I already do. At least I get to smoke on the way. People are all about safety first, but it helps me drive. I get nervous behind the wheel of an automobile, always have. Besides, it'll help me deal with the lawyer, and he doesn't care if I walk in there all bleary eyed. He gets payed either way.

Stupid Mail

I flew North yesterday. I'm starting to get a little sense of the compass directions. I used to have a compass keychain, but it broke when I tried to open a beer with it, so I got a beer opener keychain. Anyway, I've flown all around this area. There's nothing new to see from the air, and nothing seems that interesting once I land, so I kept drifting North, not paying attention, and I ended up pretty far off.

I passed a city and went down. It was dark, so I could spot the hotels by the neon signs, but nobody saw me land. I got a room for the night. I've barely been out of the house for months. It felt weird to sleep somewhere else. Plus, it got to be day, and the curtains in those places never make it dark enough to sleep through the sunlight. It's supposed to be winter, no sun. What the hell?

There was a letter when I got back. I didn't read the whole thing, but I guess there's some new legal issue with my parent's will. I didn't want to deal with any of that stuff the first time, there's no way I'm gonna go back now. I thought being a superhero was supposed to be a thrill a minute, always some psychopath pointing a death ray at something. I shouldn't have to deal with this legal bullshit. I'll fly South next time.

My Resolution Is To Stop Being So Lame

So I was gonna go to this thing last night, but it never happened, so I got myself a bottle of the good stuff and had my own party. It sucks because new year's is totally one of my favorite holidays. Maybe it's something about only having to think about the holiday for a few seconds, I don't know. Anyway, I was looking forward to this, but something always comes along and things fall apart.

So I spent another night, just me in this big house by myself. It's actually starting to feel kind of lonely. Should I get a butler? Where would I even find one? I think those kinds of things are passed down from generation to generation. They're not making new butlers anymore. I could ask Jeeves, but the algorithm killed him. Now it's just Ask. It's dumb. If people wanted generic, they'd just google like a normal person.

The good news is I awoke today with no trace of a hangover. That's what happens when you go for the good stuff. I don't usually make resolutions I know I won't keep, but that thing up in the title would be nice.

New Documentary Starring Will Smith

Remember when Will Smith was in Ali, and everyone said it was such an amazingly realistic performance? Well, get ready for the latest in non-fiction:



This guy is my new hero. It's like they followed me around with a camera, except I haven't really saved anyone to date, and I'm not black, but other than that, it's uncanny.

I always wondered why Metropolis wasn't more pissed off with Superman about the property damage. You never see him fixing the giant holes he punched in things. Now there's something that addresses that question. By the way, can you believe I've had this blog over six months, and I'm still writing on it? That's got to be a record, and X-mas is almost over. Hooray!

Home for the Hideaways

Not many entries lately. I hate the holidays. I don't think I've left my house in weeks. I just sit around, drinking, getting high, so my power won't work. It doesn't matter. All the superpowers in the world couldn't save the world from holiday shopping stampedes.

Lost in Space

I woke up today, went up on my roof and just took off. I flew up through the clouds, and my ears popped. I'd never gone up that high before, but I felt like I had to get out of here, you know? I see the same walls every day, eat pretty much the same stuff. I still haven't broken up any bank robberies or anything. Why the hell do I even have this power?

In hindsight, I should have payed more attention to where I was going, because I came down out of the clouds and realized I had no idea where I was, and I didn't have my phone or my wallet. I guess that might have made me a little scared, and when I'm scared it gets really hard for me to fly, which makes me more scared. It's a dangerous cycle.

I walked for probably a few hours, past farms and things. Walking sucks, but nobody wanted to give me a ride. What's up with people? When I got to what they call a town out there, I couldn't even buy lunch because I didn't have any money. I finally found a bank and convinced them who I was, so they gave me some money, and I got to eat. By that time, I was so stressed out, I was never going to be able to fly home, and I had to take the bus.

I'd forgotten what a horrible experience it is to ride Greyhound, all those babies crying, awkward silences with the guy you happened to sit next to, the near paralysis from the lack of space, not to mention the smell.

I'm sure it's nothing compared to busses in Calcutta and everything, but it felt like the whole wretched mass of humanity crammed into that small-ass bus, and it sure didn't raise my opinion of humanity. I must have flown hundreds of miles this morning, because it took all afternoon and most of the night just to get home. Good thing I got enough cash for the cab fare.

I don't know what I was looking for when I went up and out, and I'm pretty sure I didn't find it, but I'm gonna think twice about going to look for it again. I'm sure there are people out there who ride the bus all the time, and that's really too bad. Now that I think about it, it makes me really sad, which makes me incapable of flight, which makes me that much more likely to have to take the bus again.

Float Like a Bee, Sting Like a Butterfly

I can't fly when I think about flying. It only works if I don't think about anything, which I'm pretty good at, but it makes it hard to keep track of where I'm going. I've been trying different ways of dealing with that, and I think I've got a good one. I do this kind of swooping thing. It's hard to describe. I fall down and forward for a while, then, because I let myself fall, I fly back up. As soon as I think about which direction I wan to go, I get distracted and stop gaining altitude, but I can fall forward in the direction I want to go. It's a little routine, and I'm getting pretty good at it, but it only works if you're not afraid to fall.

I got the idea last month that it's the same way bees fly, so I started working on this whole bee superhero idea. I found this leather jacket with yellow stripes around the sleeves. I figured that would be like a safety thing, so people could see me. I was going to get some knee pads for rough landings there were like the same pattern. I could be Bee Man, or something less lame.

Then I made the mistake of doing research, nothing in depth, just nature shows, and I realized bees don't fly that way at all. I saw some birds doing it, diving in to catch fish and stuff, but there's no way I'm going to be Pelican Man, with the super neck pouch. I bet other birds do it too, like hawks and sparrows and things, but I don't see myself using any name that might get me confused with Robin, the boy wonder.

Don't, Jump!

I was downtown today, and I passed this corner where there were all these people looking up. There were cops and firemen, but I couldn't figure out what everyone was looking at. Turns out it was this:



Some guy was out on a ledge, ready to jump. See him up there, in the blue shirt? Sorry, my phone doesn't zoom that well. The cops didn't seem to be doing anything, and one of them was going around, cordoning off a mailbox and utility pole down where I was, about a block away. Maybe he was practicing. Maybe he's the new guy, and they were keeping him busy. Anyway, I figured this was my shot. I went somewhere more secluded, where I could still see him, and got ready to fly up and catch him in mid air.

Then the bastard went back inside. How frustrating is that? Son of a bitch. Here I was, finally in a situation where I could do something useful, and he goes back inside. I tell you, I'm getting pretty sick and tired of this hero business. How am I supposed to save the world now, put solar panels on my roof? It's not exactly the most dramatic threat to mankind.

I bet he would have been heavy anyway. I've never flown with someone else before, and I don't really know how it works. If I'd caught him and dropped him or missed him completely, think how embarrassing that would have been. And what if he'd dragged me down with him? I'm not risking my life for some guy who wants to kill himself anyway.

Halloween

Well, in typical me fashion, I got drunk, fell asleep and missed the halloween party I was going to go to. It sucks because I had this great costume all ready to go. It's so simple. That's the beauty of it.


It's this tiny batman costume that hangs down in front of me. I can kick with its little leggings and punch with its tiny arms. I call it the bat bib, or the bat quatto. It's really cool, but it kind of looks like I beat up a little kid and stole his costume. Oh, well. Maybe I'll save it for next year. I guess I've been working on that instead of my actual superhero costume.

You know, I've been thinking about the whole "with great power comes great responsibility" thing, and I can't see that it's always true.

Just because you're good at something or have some ability, doesn't mean that you need to use it. Hitler was pretty good at wiping out the Jews. That doesn't mean that he should have. I mean, you shouldn't do things just because you can, and maybe I shouldn't be jumping off buildings to save people or whatever. There's no clear moral imperative that says I have to do things. Sometimes it's better just to get drunk and fall asleep on the couch.

The Latest News From the Hero's Lair

I'm not doing anything super at all, just sitting around and watching youtube stuff. Sorry to disappoint you all, if maybe you think I haven't been writing because I was kidnapped by a mad scientist and tortured for the secrets of flight. Nope. I wish there was more to it, but I just watched this video with Sarah Vowell.



I think that sums it up pretty nicely. I thought I might also write something about assassinations. I don't know, preventing them or something, but I have the strong feeling that would have involved research of some kind. I'm just not up for that this morning.

Utter Lameitude

I was out on the street today, and this big metal thing fell off a truck into traffic. Well, it kind of slid off, and there was this guy honking his horn, who was trapped in the lane behind it. I was totally gonna go clean it up, but the truck pulled over right away, and someone was already pulling the metal thing out of the road. It had wheels, by the way. Maybe he was stealing it. I don't know.

I just stood there, part of the crowd of onlookers. That felt lame, so I left. Here was my chance to do something heroic -- I don't know what. Some disaster waiting for a hero, at least on a small scale, and I just watched it go by. Should I have flown in and scooped up the thing? Would that be any better than waiting for the light and pushing it on it's wheels? It all worked out, so I don't know what I'm stressing about, but I might not get another shot.

I've never been in a bank that's being robbed. I've never been trapped on a plummeting elevator with a load of screaming passengers. What if this is as close as I come to my shot at being a real hero, and I blew it? What if I'm not a real hero?

Time To Get Serious

There's been a lot of changes around here. I know it's been a while since I last posted, but I've been really busy. I'm finally taking the superhero thing seriously. I'm preparing, training, molding myself into a model hero. Plus, my keyboard broke, and I've been too lazy to get a new one. That made it tough to blog.

Yeah, I admit, it's taken me a while to step up to the plate. It's not easy to turn myself into a hero. I don't have a lot to work with, so I'm at kind of a disadvantage there. I keep thinking what Batman put himself through before he went out into the world to fight crime.

Don't tell anyone, but I've been working on a secret identity. Everybody in the industry has one. I don't know if you noticed, but I changed my name in the upper right. That's not my actual name in the corner of the screen. I can't have everyone on the internet know who I am. I wonder if anyone actually reads this...

I can technically go back and edit incriminating information out of old posts, but I never really wrote that much about myself anyway, so there isn't much reason to bother.

I also started working on a superhero costume, something really cool, but it's kind of specific, and I have to be sure that nobody can trace it back to me. I sure hope this secrecy thing doesn't get too exhausting. I was thinking of getting one of these. They seem futuristic and everything, but it'd be too easy to track, wouldn't it? Besides, that's a little too spandex.

I bought a pair of glasses with no prescription the other day, like Clark Kent has. I thought it might help with the whole secret identity thing. I actually found them kind of annoying. How do glasses-wearing people do it? Besides, I don't think I could convince anyone that I really wear glasses. I don't even believe it.

I got one of those police scanner things. It should help fight crime. I can hear it right now, in the other room, going all the time. I hope I get used to it. Sooner or later, it'll be time to go out and do something heroic, and I hope I'll be ready.

I guess the only thing left is to come up with a cool name. Any ideas? Seriously, if anybody does read this, and you have some ideas, I could use them.

Ain't Technology Grand?

I found an article today about a flying suit, or whatever. It think I could use one to get more power and control. It's really for parachuting, but as long as I can maintain my altitude or even go up a little bit, it'll help.

Actually, this isn't too different to what I do. I fly along, not really up or down for most of the trip. It's more like gliding, but maybe I wouldn't have to concentrate as much, and I could thing about other things while I'm flying.

In other news, I'm getting really good at martial arts. I went to a couple more lessons, and I got all these kicks and things. It's really formal. I don't know how much it would help in a street fight, but I feel way stronger, so that's good. Also, if I try and fight with one of the flying suits on, the wings are going to get in the way, but if I'm going to be a superhero, I'm gonna have to have these skills, right?

I Am Iron Man

Wow. I just saw the trailer for Iron Man, and it looks totally freakin' sweet. I gotta get me one of those suits. It would totally help me fight crime and supervillains and stuff.

I'd have super strength. I'd be bulletproof. I'd have freakin' flame throwers in my hands and jets in my feet. I wouldn't have to do anything to fly, just press a button. I'm all about that.

Really, I just want some heavy metal. Get it, because of the song.

Oh, I just looked at the bottom of the page. It turns out I'm only 25% Iron Man, whatever that means. Again, I think it's because there was no question about being a millionaire. I should write a quiz like that, and it'd be way better. I should do a lot of stuff.

I got this workout equipment online. I set it up last week and started using it. I can already feel myself getting stronger. I can lift more now than I could last week, but it hurts. I guess that's the price of being a superhero. Tony Stark went through a lot of pain before he became Iron Man. I can do a little of it, too.

Missed Labor Day, etc.

I didn't go to my martial arts class today. I just didn't feel like it. Instead, I wandered around the house, going through a bunch of old stuff. I'll go next week.

I found one of my parents' scrapbooks. I spent like an hour looking at all the news articles they clipped about themselves. They did all kinds of shit I never even heard about. They made those people who subscribe for an African kid look like Nazi puppy-stranglers. I mean, they did a lot of good stuff.

I have to admit, it successfully made me feel a little guilty. I'm rich. I'm bored. I should be doing good samaritan stuff. I'm hobbling around here, feeling sorry for myself. I was so bored today, I didn't even feel like flying, and that's the only thing I really do thats fun. Feeling guilty is no good reason to do something, but if there's already a reason to, and it pushes you in the right direction, I guess that's not so bad.

Pain Again

I guess I spoke too soon. My knees have been hurting all day. Clearly, I have no miraculous healing abilities. Maybe my imagination got away from me on that one.

Maybe I'm taking this whole thing too seriously. I don't really want to be a superhero. Uncle Ben's all like "With great power comes great responsibility," but my power isn't really that great. All I can do is fly around a little. Lots of people do plenty of heroic things without ever setting foot off the ground, but all I do is sit up here and stare at my computer. I'm not super at all. Today, I can barely walk. What's gonna happen if I try and fight crime or save the world or something?

I have no great anger with the criminals of society, no vendetta on a supervillain. I don't hate anybody, so why should I have to fight?

Good News, Bad News

Sweet! Good news, my right knee's better. It started really hurting this afternoon, but in a different way than it had been. I massaged it for a while and went about my business. About an hour ago, it just stopped hurting completely. I wonder if I have some kind of miraculous healing ability or anything. That would be awesome.

It's a little tired right now, because I started doing all these roundhouse kicks that I learned in class. The left knee still hurts a little, but that was never the bad one, maybe because I'm right handed and I tend to lead with my right foot. Anyway, I don't want to test the whole healing factor thing, because it would hurt, probably, but the next time I get hurt, I'll have to remember to pay attention to it.

Of course, there's bad news too. I got this thing for my iphone. It's supposed to charge it from a battery. I thought it'd be cool, because if I'm flying all around, I might not always be close to an outlet to plug it in. It doesn't work. It's crap. I waited until the phone was almost dead and put it on. It looked like it was doing something, and I did keep talking on it for a while, then I let it charge for like three hours. The little blue light kept flashing, but the battery level never went up, and then it died. That's bullshit, because I was all excited about this thing, and it didn't work. I hope my phone still works. I haven't plugged it in yet. I can't remember if I backed up my contacts. Hm.

Wherever They Lurk

Okay, it's possible I was too optimistic about the whole supervillain thing. The odds are, she's just some chick. I've yet to meet an actual human being who has the patience and drive to be evil the way they are in the movies. I've known people who talked about it, but it's always talk.

You know how I know she's not a supervillain? I asked her. Sometimes the simplest solutions are the best. I totally texted her about it for like ten minutes. If there's one thing I know about supervillains, it's that they can't stop talking about their diabolical plans for world domination and shit like that. Oh, well. Tell the truth, I think that was what I liked best about her. Eh, easy come, easy go.

In the mean time, I signed up for a martial arts class. It's only once a week, and the instructor seems pretty chill, so hopefully I can stick with it for a while. I think it's important for superheroes to have those kinds of skills, right? Otherwise, I'll never be able to beat up the bad guys, whenever they show up. At the very least, I can learn how to tuck or something when I land, and that'll help.

Operation Successful

I had a crazy night the other day. Just when I thought my knees were getting better, I went and had sex. Don't get me wrong, it was pretty awesome, but who knew it could have negative consequences? I have to like balance my desire for sex against my physical well-being. Lame.

She took me to a hotel, which makes me more suspicious, but it was this classy little bed and breakfast. I spent the whole night prepared to discover that she was actually a supervillain, but nothing came to light on that front. Maybe a little more investigation is called for, with more sex along the way. I'll probably run into her again.

Date Night

I can't write too long, but I thought I'd sit down and mention that I have a date tonight.

Remember that girl I ran into a couple times before? I ran into her again this morning. I went out to breakfast, because I was out of cereal, and I was too lazy to get more food delivered. She asked me out. Should I be suspicious of this? I kind of wonder if she wants my money. The first time she saw me was at the rich people's party, and she talked to me there. Then I saw her at this club, and I remember she said nice things about my iPhone. It's not a big deal. I've got a bunch of money to spare. I don't think she'll get that much. I'm gonna marry her. Isn't that how these women work?

I remember when I didn't have anything, and women still wanted things like relationships. I'm not that good at relationships, but neither are most superheroes, according to the movies I've seen. She could be my Lois Lane. Ooh, what if she's actually a supervillain, and that's why I keep running into her? I've been waiting for something like that. It'd be something to do.

Property Damage, Ahoy

I just got home. I went out to the park tonight, to practice my flying. I wanted a big open space with a soft ground. I knew I'd be safe. Nobody comes to my park at night.

I stood at the top of the hill, because the whole park is on an incline, and it's always easier for me to glide without losing altitude that it is for me to gain altitude. There was a bench and table thing there, so I stood on top of that and jumped off. I'm getting pretty good at the kind of focus that lets me fly. I like to visualize some distant desert, far below me, coming up lazily to meet me. I jumped off the table thing and flew over the entire length of the park. It was beautiful. I didn't want to push myself that hard, but I think I was able to gain a little altitude at one point. I don't have a consistent image for that, but I think about the rollercoasters pushing me down into my seat. It doesn't always work.

The real problem I have with flying is that I can't really concentrate on where I'm going without falling. I don't close my eyes all the time, but I'm not really paying attention either, so when I got to the street at the far end of the park, I kept on going, and I ended up getting caught in the power lines over the street. It was really scary. I didn't want to grab on to them, because I thought they were going to snap, and when I started to think about all that, I lost my concentration and fell.

I was lucky a Saturn broke my fall. It could have been something much harder, or I could have hit the pavement. I was in a lot of pain after I landed, but I don't think there's any serious injury. The hood of the car got dented pretty bad, though. I wasn't sure what to do. Does insurance cover things when you're not in your car? I don't think anybody saw me. Nobody comes to my park at night. There was no alarm, so I just left. If anyone wakes up tomorrow with a big me-shaped dent in their hood, sorry.

World Crisis

I expected my life to be totally different now that I'm a superhero, but nothing's changed. I started watching more superhero movies. I don't know what's so different about my life from theirs. It's just not fair.

There's got to be something I can do, something not too hard, before I do the whole saving the world thing. How do you even save the world? Is there some evil mastermind that's going to call me up and threaten the world? Do I need one of those big justice league world crisis monitor things?

I tried watching CNN, but it was so freaking boring, and it was full of stuff I wouldn't be useful at all for, like something about Michael Vick's dogfighting thing, and there's no way I'm going into Iraq. It's not like I'd do any good over there anyway. One story that caught my attention was the space shuttle. If something went wrong up there, it'd be cool to fly up and do something about it. I can't go into outer space or anything, but maybe if I talk to NASA, they could make me some kind of suit where I could go up and be above the atmosphere.

Anyway, everything else I saw on there just looked like too much work. I don't really care about all that stuff. I have enough of my own stuff to worry about.

Superhero Quiz

How the hell did this happen? I specifically said "no capes." And how am I 50% Catwoman? She's not even a hero. I thought for sure I'd get Batman or Iron Man, but there was no questions about being a millionaire and living in a mansion. I even got Superman over Batman. That's lame. And where's Spawn? I remember that guy. He was back from hell with revenge on his mind. I could totally be that.

Your results:
You are Robin

Robin 57% Spider-Man 55% Supergirl 52% Catwoman 50% Hulk 45% Superman 35% Batman 35% The Flash 35% Green Lantern 35% Wonder Woman 27% Iron Man 25%

Young and acrobatic. You don't mind stepping aside to give someone else glory.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz

I'm Super, Thanks For Asking

Wow, what a feeling. I can't concentrate and do it again, but I just flew around the room. It was the most bizarre and awesome experience ever. I floated up, did a few laps and touched back down. I feel like a goddamned superhero.

Actually, I kind of am a superhero, aren't I? I don't know where my powers come from, but I have one. Flying is a superhero power. Fuckin-a. I'm a superhero. I can't believe I didn't think of it before. That's great.

What does that mean? What do I do now? What exactly do superheroes do? I wish there were some, so I could ask.

My Life Is Its Own Thrill Ride

I guess it's been a few days since I've written anything. It's not that there hasn't been anything to say, but I haven't really cared enough to write it all down.

So, I spent the weekend at Six Flags. I rode all the rides a bunch of times, sometimes with my eyes open, sometimes with my eyes closed, focusing on the feeling of the g-forces pushing and pulling me back and forth, up and down. It's funny, how the first time you ride a rollercoaster, It's so surprising, and you can't help that little bit of out of control feeling, and the second time you get on, it's already predictable, like you know the place where they take your picture and try to make some kind of face. I couldn't ever get one I liked. There was one decent one, where I was trying to look excited. Maybe I'll post it.

The good news was, I was so tired when I got back, all I wanted to do was veg out in front of the TV and take copious naps, two things that get me in the mood for flying, and sometime last afternoon, in a semi-drowsy state and during a grand prize episode of AFV, or America's Funniest Home Videos to the layman, I was able to gain altitude for the first time while awake. I was lying on the couch, thinking about the rollercoasters, actually not thinking about anything. The best phrase I can think of to describe it would be to say that I fell up, while I was falling down at the same time. I guess I was falling up a little faster than I was falling down, because I ended up in the air above the couch.

I was still kind of sleepy, but I was also a little hungry, so I let myself fall towards the kitchen. I kept falling but never hit the ground all the way to the fridge, got some ice cream and fell back towards the living room. Finally, I let myself fall all the way down on the couch with my ice cream and watched the rest of the episode. The one with the singing cat won $100,000. Also, I forgot to get a spoon when I was in the kitchen, so I waited until the ice cream melted, then half drank it, half ate it with my hands.

I Am A Little Disappointed

There's a strange thing about my friend calling me last week for advice. The thing is, he was one of the guys I used to look up to. I really thought he had his shit together. Now I find out he's more of a mess than I am, and I can see exactly what he's always been looking for. I look back, and I realize he was always looking for something to believe in, and whenever he had something new, he'd show it to me, and I'd be blown away. That's why I believed in him. Now I see that he's always going to be searching, for his whole life, and nothing's ever going to satisfy him. He's never going to find the answers he wants, because there aren't any.

It's like when you're a kid, and the people you look up to the most in the world are your parents. You think they know everything. Then one day, as you get older, you start to see the cracks in that armor. You start to realize they can be wrong. After that, maybe you start to look for other things to believe in, but it's always the same story.

In the end, the only person you can count on is yourself, but I know exactly how stupid and unreliable I can be. No, that's it. I'm out of ideas.

Going Up?

Wait a second, I've never been reverse skydiving, but I have done things like reverse bungee on carnival rides. No. Actually, I'm thinking more of a space shot ride. Hold on.

I just tried to visualize myself shooting up in the air like that ride, but I don't think it's going to work without being in some kind of super constrictive padded chair. The only real experience I can think of that would be close is like an elevator. Would that work?

Walking On Air

I practiced floating a bunch of times yesterday. I can do it with my eyes open if I really concentrate on the memory of falling. I did it in a bunch of different rooms in the house. I jumped off the dining room table and floated the entire length of the room without falling. I guess I'll keep going forward at the same height until I let myself fall. I also figured out that I could ease myself down by picturing the ground coming up to meet me.

Last night, I jumped off the roof of my house and floated across the street to the roof of somebody else's house. It was so exciting, I couldn't concentrate enough to get back. I knew if I tried, I'd fall. Plus, my roof is higher than theirs, so I wasn't sure if I could get the height I needed to get back. I stayed on their roof for almost an hour, trying to calm down. They had a door for roof access, but it was locked, and I didn't know what to tell them when I went down. They'd think I was breaking into their house, which I would be, but just to get back to mine. I don't know how to explain how I got on their roof.

So I waited until I thought I was calm enough and jumped off their roof. I pictured the ground coming up to meet me very slowly and eased myself down. I wonder what would happen if I pictured the ground going farther away? I don't think it would work, since I've never been reverse sky diving.

Don't I Know You?

I met someone at a club last night. I saw a flyer on one of those, was it a telephone pole, and ended up going. She recognized me. I didn't know who she was, but she looked kind of familiar. I don't know anyone in this town. I ran down the list of possible ex-girlfriends who might have moved here, but she didn't look like any of them. She just kept talking to me. The music turned out to be lame, so we went outside and talked about how the music had turned out to be lame, and she gave me her number.

I don't know if I'm gonna call her, but this morning, I think I figured out who she was. About a month ago, I went to a really stuffy party with lots of boring people, and I think she was the girl I ended up talking to there. This is not a small city. These parties are not similar. What if this is more than a coincidence? I pretty much believe that everything's a coincidence, but I could be wrong. What if learning to fly and meeting this girl are all part of something? What if I'm supposed to call her?

If this is my destiny, it's got to do a much better job of clarifying itself, because I don't want to do all the work.

Looking Back

I got a call from an old friend of mine from high school. He's having a fight with another old friend from high school. It sent me into this whole regression thing. No, what's the word? Nostalgic.

I searched on myspace for all the graduates of our high school in the years surrounding our own. It's amazing how many of them are still living in that town, married, with kids. I found a girl who used to sit behind me in physics. We were good friends. Now she's divorced with a kid. I guess physics and I aren't really getting along right now. I think it's ignoring me.

Still, I don't know what to think about all this. Our reunion is still a few years off. I never had any intention of making something of myself, but it looks like some people really didn't try. If I did go, who knows how many eight or nine year old kids there'd be.

Is that what they want from life? I guess it's a good thing I didn't try to contact any of them to figure out what they were up to. You never know when people like that are going to suck you back into their stepford world. I don't really believe that, but I can't help thinking that's part of what society expects of me and how glad I am that I'm safe from that pressure in this house. Nobody tells me what to do. That's why I fired that personal trainer, because doing things is for suckers.

Jump Magic, Jump

Guess what I just did. I jumped off the bed and didn't land for about five seconds. I'm getting really good at this. It's easy, you just let yourself fall like you're not going to land, and you don't. I closed my eyes and imagined I was jumping off the roof like I did last week. I imagined the ground was like sixty feet down again, and it took me about the same amount of time to fall the five feet here as it did the sixty feet out there. The height doesn't matter at all.

I tried to imagine myself falling a hundred feet so I could float even longer, but I've never fallen a hundred feet, so I can't imagine it. I hit the ground while I was still trying to conjure the image, so that didn't work.

Then I just imagined myself falling through the air, like I'd jumped out of a plane, and that was perfect. I kept falling and falling. I really felt like I was in free fall. See, I actually did that once. When I was sixteen, my parents made me go. I took one lesson and never had any interest in doing it again. That was one of those jumps where you go with another person, and the sky diving teacher they strapped to my back was really into it, kept screaming in my ear the whole time.

Anyway, I tried to relive that experience in my mind. I thought about how that felt as a kid, and it totally worked. I don't have too clear a memory of the part after he opened the chute, just the falling part. I think I could have fallen forever if I hadn't opened my eyes. I saw where I was, that destroyed the illusion and made me fall. I hit the floor kind of hard, and my knees are still hurting, so that sucked, but if I can keep that in my mind while I'm in the air and get ready to land when I open my eyes, I don't have to worry about anything.

R.I.P.

Ingmar Bergman is dead. He died today or last night or something. I kind of liked the guy. His movies were good, but there was also this quote of his I always liked: "My personal view is that when we die, we die, and we go from a state of something to a state of absolute nothingness; and I don’t believe for a second that there’s anything above or beyond or anything like that; and this makes me enormously secure."

What a cool guy. I used to wonder a lot about religion and the future and death and stuff, but when I read that, it was the first thing that really made sense to me. I think it's comforting that nothing you do is going to last forever, that any problems you have, anything you're afraid of, are eventually going to go away. I don't know if I'm explaining this right. Nothing I do makes any difference. That's great. I used to be afraid of fucking things up, but now I know I don't have to be afraid. Someday, I'll be dead, and all the stuff I cared about is gonna be gone, along with every mistake I ever made. People talk about death like it's something to be afraid of. I don't feel that way. I think it's comforting to know that I have an end. Would you want to live with the consequences of your mistakes forever?

I Can't Land

I keep getting nervous. I see the ground, and I know it's coming. I did it once. If I hadn't done it the first time, maybe it'd be different, but right now, that's totally messing with my head.

Every time I jump off the roof, I get half way down, I'm watching the rungs on the thing go by, and I'm sinking slow, then I drop. Sometimes it's the last three feet. Sometimes it's six feet. My knees really hurt right now. It's the same injury, I know it. Everything hurts, but mostly my knees.

Something was lifting me up when I was sleeping. I should have the ability to go up, but I can't. I just keep falling. I've got to do something else. If I can make that jump the first time, I should be able to make something else the first time.

I Can Fly

I'm alive. I didn't die. It was pretty cool, actually. I went up on the roof, and I stood on the edge, and I let myself go totally limp, like when I go to sleep. I started to collapse, but then I didn't. Damn, I can't really describe it. Maybe it's like when you're in an elevator that drops really fast. You know how you go up a little, even though there's nothing lifting you? Anyway, I had to stay limp, because if I wake up, I fall. I know that much. I let myself lean a little bit forward, towards the edge of the roof. I kept going until I was almost horizontal. My feet left the ground, and I was over the edge.

I got nervous. I started falling faster, not like gravity would do, but faster than over my bed. I was still sixty feet up, and I had nothing to hold on to. If I was going to do this, I had to do it right, so I kept breathing and let myself fall a little deeper into sleep. The ground was so far away. I think I actually stopped falling for a second, but I can't be sure. I let myself come down slow, just like when I wake up. It was great. I kept falling, but I knew I'd be fine. I looked up at the street lamps on my street. I was dropping down next to an electrical pole, or is that a phone pole, the one with the little rungs on the side? I don't know. I watched the rungs go past. Then they ran out. I looked down and the ground came up to meet me. Perfect landing, like I'd been flying all my life.

I guess I'll do it again. After I landed, I got all wired. I mean, it was a real rush once I realized what I'd done. I don't think I can trick myself into sleep like that again.

The Roof Is Up Higher

You know what, I've been getting pretty good at floating down when I wake up. I think the time has come to try it when I'm awake. On some level, I'm always kind of asleep, and I know part of me is awake when I'm floating down. I just have to put myself in that mindset. It'd be a lot easier with a little pot, but I never seem to get above the mattress when I smoke, and I never bothered to find a new weed guy after I moved, so I don't have much left.

I went up on the roof. It's about a sixty foot drop to the street. I don't know if it'd kill me, but I'd probably break something. Whatever. I know those doctors are just waiting to get their hands on me again. It's cold up there, kind of windy. I took a picture from up there. I was gonna post it, but I don't have a flash, and you can't really see anything, just the streetlights. Maybe I'll take another one when the sun's up.

Anyway, I think I can make it. I'm gonna try. If this is my last blog, you'll know I'm in the hospital or I'm dead. I don't think I'll die, but Colombus didn't think he'd find America. We all have to take some risks.

I'm Really More Like This

I've been playing nintendo games most of the morning, and I remembered that Princess Toadstool could float a little in Mario 2. That's the one where it turns out it was all a dream. That's pretty much like my life, except for picking up my enemies and throwing them at other enemies. That'd be sweet.

Questions

Maybe that's not fair. I thought about the show a little more, and it does raise some interesting questions. Maybe I should have been asking these things all along. Why is this happening to me, out of all the people it could have? Aren't there people who'd be way better for this? Did someone choose me for this, like aliens, or something? Is there a purpose to it, something that I should be doing with it that I'm not? Is that why I suck so much at flying? Are there more powers I'll develop that I don't even know about yet?

I guess I should be wondering all these things, but the bottom line is that I don't really care. If I get better at flying, that'd be great, but as long as I don't fall, it doesn't matter to me how I got up there. Plus, lots of stuff has happened in my life, stuff that seemed really meaningful at the time, but none of them really mattered in the long run. I don't know, this could be the exception.

I must have lost the instructions to my life, too.

I Am Not This Guy

Okay, this is a little embarrassing, but I've been doing a little research to find someone in the same situation as I am, and I started watching this show called Greatest American Hero. If you've seen it, you might understand why this embarrasses me. If you haven't seen it, you may not have had to lobotomize yourself with a chain saw half way through an episode.

Let me give you the short version. It's the early 80s, and an idealistic young teacher is trying to change the lives of some troubled inner city youth (who are so lame, they make The Goonies look like The Sopranos), while fighting his supermodel ex-wife for custody of their son and falling in love with his divorce lawyer for some reason. Still with me? Then, aliens come down and give him a magic suit, which gives him super powers, and make him team up with a bitter old FBI agent to solve crimes, fight terrorists and... whatever else, I don't know. The teacher guy loses the suit's instructions, which for some reason aren't in the box with the suit, so he has to figure out the powers for himself. And that is why I thought I might get something out of watching the show.

Oh, one more thing, everyone on the show is a complete moron. People see him in the super suit, and immediately want to arrest him, send him to a mental institution and pump him full of narcotics for the rest of his life. Have they seriously never heard of cosplay, or friggin' halloween? Then there's the episode where he turns invisible, and they pull his partner over and almost arrest him, a federal agent, for talking to himself in his own car. That's insane.

I can't deal with that, and I'm not going anywhere near the Flying Nun. I don't care if it gives me all the powers in the world. Nobody's invulnerable to lousy television.

The one thing I got that might possibly have been useful was when he first tries to fly, and this totally random kid walks up and says, "You have to take three steps first," and it works. Why would that kid know that? It doesn't make any sense, and guess what, it's also complete crap. It doesn't matter how many steps I take, as long as I'm awake, I can't get off the ground.

My Political Blog

Okay, I started thinking about politics and stuff, like how things are going bad in Iraq and whatever. People talk about how things aren't good "right now," but when have things ever been good? I hear about all kinds of shitty things in the past, and people working so hard to make things better, and what has all that accomplished? Are things really better now, for all the rallies and marches and progressive things? They didn't have iPhones in Vietnam. That's one thing better.

I'm bored again. The week just started, and there's nothing going on. Floating isn't even that interesting anymore. I'd like to be able to float other things. That way I'd never have to get up to do anything. I wonder if I could do that. Not if I can't even reliably float myself. I don't know if it can rightly even be called flying, since I can't figure out how to gain altitude, just wake up and make a controlled decent.

Ow

I'm sore. Every part of me is sore. That bastard has me working out on machines and things. I don't know what the hell I'm doing anymore. I just don't see the point. Why the hell would I want to fly if it means this kind of pain?

He called me at like six in the morning to get me out of bed. That's not right for a sunday morning. It means I got, what, two good hours? He didn't know I was above my bed. The phone rang and woke me up too quick. I fell out of the air, bounced off the mattress and hit my head. That was just the start. We did running and drills and things, then we did exercises in a gym, systematically going through and beating the shit out of each muscle.

He told me today would be the hardest day. He said I should see it through to the other side and that my body would thank me in the end, that I would thank him. Fuck it, I fired him. I'll have this body forever, puny muscles and all.

Yer a Bum, Rock, a Bum!

As I woke up this morning, I didn't fall. I allowed myself to float gently down to my bed, then I went back to sleep, all at peace with the world and stuff. I woke up an hour later and couldn't get an inch off the mattress. There's something there I can't unlock. I know I can do it, but I'm not able to do it, and I don't know why. I came up with this idea yesterday. I think it might be because I'm not trying hard enough, so I hired someone to help motivate me, a personal trainer.

I don't know what might happen if people find out. I can't have him telling anybody about me, so I swore him to secrecy. I used my parent's lawyer to make a contract, then I had him make another one and swore the lawyer to secrecy. Nobody's going to tell anyone anything ever.

The guy I got is super tough. He doesn't seem to care that my knees hurt or that I'm breaking the laws of physics. He doesn't even seem to care that he hasn't seen my fly, just keeps saying he's gonna get me up there. Maybe I should have done my own Who's Gonna Train Me?, part 2, part 3. Igottafightcomminup!

Stupid Doctors

I got all my test results back from the hospital. There's nothing they can do. My knees just have to heal. They told me to avoid stress on them. That's no problem. If I can't get off the ground, there's no danger of rough landings, but I can't just keep jumping and expect anything to happen.

Another Day, Another Fall

I'm getting much better at hanging in the air when I wake up. I started taking cat naps so I could get more practice waking. I don't know what it is about that REM state or whatever that counteracts gravity. If I could just stay half asleep all the time, that would be perfect, I'd never have to come down, and before you even say it, no amount of weed will get me to that state, and if I smoke before I fall asleep, it usually won't work.

The real disaster is trying to apply weightlessness to any other situation. There's no amount of running leaps that will make it work. I'm just not making progress at all. I give up, especially since I got really hurt today. I was at a tennis court. I guess I thought a sporting environment would inspire me or something. It's never inspired me to play sports, but I took this huge leap, as hard as my legs would go, and I close my eyes, like if I don't see the landing it'll never come. It came, hard. I almost broke my iPhone. I don't usually do this kind of thing, but I figure I've got the money, so why not call an ambulance? They cart me off to the emergency room, want to do an MRI on my knee. I haven't heard back about that. Then they wrap me all in bandages and want to keep me overnight. I can't do that. What if I wake up in the middle of the night above the hospital bed, catheter tubes all tangled or whatever?

I snuck out and called a cab. It hurts like hell to walk, but at least I'm home. They put me on something for the pain, so that could have kept me grounded, but it still hurts, so they obviously didn't give me enough.

Well, That Was a Mistake

Yeah, that party sucked, just like I thought it would. I don't know why I went. All these old people were there that used to know my parents, trying to tell me stories. Every single one of them thinks they deserve to be listened to, maybe because they're rich or powerful, but I think they're just dicks. The only person I could find under the age of sixty was this girl with dark hair. She spent like an hour talking to me about scientology or astrology or something.

They had this really long driveway at the place. I went out and looked up at the stars. From up there on the hill, I could see the city lights all spread out below us. I felt like I was flying above the city. I tried a running leap down the driveway. I got some good height when I jumped, but nothing more than jumping would normally get me. Funny, I kind of expected it to work, and I almost tripped when I came down again.

Party. Party?

I'm doing something wrong. I woke up this morning, and I really tried to levitate, but some combination of things wasn't right. I wish I knew what it was that made me float. It's not the rays of a yellow sun, that's for sure. It's not wings, and it's not willpower. It could have something to do with my dreams. I can't remember having the flying dream the past few days, but I floated yesterday, so I don't know.

My parents got an invitation to a party this weekend. Someone didn't get the news. I think I might go, just to do something else, but I'd have to dress up. I remember when I would have done anything for free booze. Now I could have champagne shipped to me by the case, but I don't see the point. No matter how much you drink, you always sober up eventually.

Waking Slowly

I wonder how awake I could get without falling. I feel like I'm getting closer every day. I woke up above my bed this morning, and I stayed up there for a while. I was stiff, and I started stretching, but that made me sink a little, so I laid as still as I could, and let myself fall back asleep. That kept me up there for a few more minutes. Gradually, I came down gently on to my bed.

I stayed there for another hour, trying to take off again, but I couldn't. I'll try again tomorrow.

Happy 4th

I always forget about holidays until the last minute, but I like watching fireworks, so instead of going out, I'll just watch this:



It's exactly what I imagine an explosion at the fireworks factory would be like. It's cool when life imitates cartoons. All that's missing is the 1812 overture. As for that other thing, the flying thing, tomorrow's another day.

Falling, With Style

Hey, remember how I spent all that effort and time trying to recreate waking up in mid air? Remember how I got all frustrated and gave up? Guess what, I didn't have to do any of that. All I had to do was chill out and take a nap.

Back up for a second. I was watching Conan (the talk show host, not the barbarian). I think it was a rerun from when he was in SF, because that was a while ago. George Lucas was really creepy, and I started wondering why I looked up to that guy as a kid. He invented Han Solo, but then he invented Jar Jar. Then they had a funny bit where Conan went to Lucasfilm and got some animators to actually go outside.

After that, I found The House of Flying Daggers and watched that for a while, but it put me to sleep. They float in that one, but it's not like mine. It looks like they're jumping really hard, and they're super trained. Even in Crouching Tiger, they would arc when they jumped, and there's the part where they balance on the bamboo, but they fall when the branches get cut out from under them.

Anyway, when I woke up, there were infomercials on, and I was up above the couch. I was mostly asleep, but some part of me knew what was happening and didn't want to wake me up. I reached down with my arms, but I couldn't reach the remote, and then I could. It doesn't really make sense, looking back. It's like dream logic. I must have floated down and grabbed it, because I don't think I could have stretched that far.

From there, I just kept flipping channels. That's the time of night when VH1 actually shows music videos, but there's never any good ones when I pass by. I must have stayed up there for twenty minutes, not watching anything. When I'm sleepy, I find that more interesting than anything on TiVo. When the exercise shows start outnumbering the infomercials, that usually means the end of the night. I turned off the TV and fell. It must have broken the spell, whatever was holding me up. I hit my arm on the coffee table when I bounced off the couch. Not cool. Now my arm hurts.

Anyway, I'm going to bed. I'll probably float again, since I seem to be doing it every time I sleep. It's not all clear in my mind. I don't understand it, and I can't explain it, but I do remember the experience, and I know it happened. That's enough for me.

Scientific Joke

I don't know. I just spent the whole day trying to recreate the circumstances from this morning, but nothing's happening. The blankets, the lighting, my position, all the same, but I couldn't make myself float. I tried rocking back and forth, like I was on the swings, trying to imagine the way it felt. I tried alcohol, weed, a parade of over the counter narcotics and then all of them in combination, but nothing seems to make me tired in just the right way. I'm sure it's not a hallucination or a dream, but I don't have any way to prove it except my own memory, and after all the narcotics, who'd believe that?

What are the odds that one guy, a loser like me, is going to break with all of the established laws of physics? Newton's way smarter than me. He did experiments and math, and proved how gravity works. Then Einstein came along and said gravity could work another way, and he proved it even better, but neither of them would ever believe I was above that bed without falling.

Anyway, I get to play with the iPhone now. I'm not sure why people are so excited about this thing. It's very shiny, but now that I have it, I don't know what I'll really do with it that I couldn't do before.